Chapter 13: Chapter 14
A/N: Got a bit of fever today. Apologies for the late update.
Also I might have worded it incorrectly yesterday and made some people confused that I wouldn’t be updating here in future. That is untrue.
What I meant was for patreon advance Chapters which is just early access to future Chapters. They will be posted here in time, you can subscribe to patreon to just read them early.
The external site I mentioned was just for hosting the Chapters in case the book gets yanked from here or patreon. NSFW is delicate thing on patreon so they might ban the page who knows when and I don’t want those who have paid to be left empty-handed.
The site is: cornyshitler.pages.dev
Enjoy the Chapter
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Fifteen feet away, Alex’s brain performed the mental equivalent of slipping on a banana peel, falling down a flight of stairs, and landing balls-first on a rake.
What the fuck what the fuck what the absolute timeline-molesting fuck—
Billy Coen was a zombie. Billy Goddamn Coen. The man was supposed to survive the training facility, flex his tragic backstory, shoot mutant nightmares in the face, and provide Rebecca with exactly the right amount of brooding ex-con emotional support. He was supposed to be the designated meat shield. Plot armor wearing a tank top.
He was absolutely not supposed to be pinning Rebecca down while auditioning for the role of throat-biting corpse bastard number four.
How? When? Did a leech get him during the crash? Did the train bounce his head off the fucking plot? Did Marcus just look at the script and decide to take a greasy shit on canon?
Rebecca strained under him, one arm shaking as she kept Billy’s snapping teeth away from her face.
Alex’s invisible paws flexed against the concrete. His Cerberus body wanted to move before his thoughts caught up—dog instincts already coiled under his skin, furious at the sight of his chosen target being threatened. The human part was still trying to process the universe deleting one of the main characters like a corrupted save file.
Then Billy’s jaw dipped closer. Rebecca’s breath caught.
That finished the debate.
Nope. Fuck the timeline. Fuck canon. Fuck whatever butterfly effect turned Billy into a lunch-seeking asshole.
---
Rebecca heard the sharp, frantic scrape of heavy claws against the cracked marble floor.
Before her brain could even register the sound, a massive shadow crossed her vision. A heavy, muscular bulk slammed into Billy from the side, instantly removing the crushing weight from her chest. The impact launched Billy across the ruined cargo pocket like a wet sack of laundry fired from a pneumatic cannon. His body crashed violently through a stack of wooden crates, splintering the aged pine into kindling before he rolled to a halt in a dark smear of black, curdled blood.
Rebecca gasped, her lungs burning as she scrambled backward on her elbows. She coughed violently, her eyes watering from the thick plaster dust and the lingering, chemical sweetness of the mystery slime still clinging to her collar.
A massive, terrifying shape stood directly between her and the collapsed crates. It had materialized out of the shadows so quickly it felt like a glitch in her own concussed vision.
What in the actual blue fuck is that?
The creature was a dog only in the sense that a tank with teeth could be classified as a family sedan. It was absolutely massive, easily twice the size of the infected Dobermans she had barely managed to survive on the train carriages. Its dense, heavy shoulders packed layers of thick muscle beneath patches of coarse black fur. Ugly seams of mottled grey flesh and raw, exposed red tissue lined its ribcage, yet the missing mass had filled out with a dense, unnatural thickness.
Even more bizarre was the calcified crown of pale, bony ridges fused directly into the skin behind its ears, framing its skull in a grotesque, helmet-like mask.
Its black lips peeled back to reveal long, yellowed teeth, and a deep, vibrating growl rumbled from its chest.
Rebecca’s hand trembled as her fingers finally closed around the handle of her survival knife. Her Beretta was gone, lost somewhere beneath the collapsed partition. She was pinned against a cold metal support beam with nothing but a six-inch blade between herself and two different flavors of biological nightmare.
To her horror, Billy was already dragging himself back up. His broken shoulder hung at a useless, ruined angle, and his left arm dangled limp against his side. The catastrophic damage to his skull didn’t seem to register to his nervous system. His cloudy, filmed-over eye rolled toward Rebecca, but his functional eye locked directly onto the giant beast blocking his path.
He let out a wet, gargling rattle from his torn throat and lunged.
The giant hound moved with terrifying, explosive speed. One second it was coiled in a low crouch, and the next, its massive jaws clamped directly onto Billy’s good shoulder with a sickening crunch of breaking bone. The creature shook the dead marine violently, tearing through fabric and flesh with brutal, animalistic efficiency.
Before Billy could even swing his remaining arm, the hound released its grip, snapped its jaws shut around the back of his neck, and delivered a swift, heavy twist.
A wet, final snap echoed through the cavernous hall.
Billy’s body instantly went limp, collapsing into the pile of broken wood like a puppet with its strings cut.
The quiet returned to the wreckage, broken only by the hiss of escaping steam and the frantic, shallow rhythm of Rebecca’s breathing. She stared at Billy’s motionless form, her mind desperately trying to process the sudden, violent death of the man who had saved her life just an hour prior. But she had no room for grief.
The massive, heavily mutated hellhound was slowly turning its head to look directly at her.
Rebecca raised her knife, her knuckles turning white as she pointed the blade at the creature’s thick throat.
"S-stay... stay back!" her voice cracked, sounding incredibly small in the dark ruins. She swallowed hard, trying to project some of Enrico’s authority. "I-I mean it! Stay the hell back!"
The creature took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Rebecca dragged her boots against the concrete, searching for traction, but her back was already pressed firmly against the buckled steel beam. She was completely cornered.
The dog lowered its massive head until its wet, black nose hovered a mere three inches from her face. Its breath was an intoxicatingly awful mixture of iron, grave dirt, and a strange, familiar musk. A thick strand of saliva drooled from its lower jaw, splashing onto her knee.
She wanted to move, but her body had just freezed up seeing the creature. At last seeing it gets closer, she could only squeeze her eyes shut, bracing her body for the inevitable, flesh-tearing bite.
Instead, a giant, rough, incredibly wet tongue dragged slowly up her cheek.
What...is happeneing?
She kept her mouth clamped shut as the sandpaper tongue slopped from her chin all the way to her temple. The thick, warm saliva smeared across her skin, effectively scrubbing away a layer of plaster dust and some of the dried, sticky residue from her earlier mysterious incident.
The dog pulled back, letting out a soft, huffing sigh that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
Rebecca slowly opened one eye, her cheek slick and dripping.
"Did you... d-did you just lick me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The creature didn’t answer with a bite. Instead, it turned its massive bulk and padded over to the collapsed partition. It sniffed the dusty debris loudly, nosed aside a heavy strip of torn insulation, and carefully opened its jaws to pick up her lost Beretta by the trigger guard.
Rebecca watched in absolute, jaw-dropping bewilderment.
The hound trotted back to her with a slow, proud sway, the cold steel of her firearm dangling gently from its teeth. It stopped right in front of her, lowered its head, and carefully deposited the handgun directly into her lap.
Rebecca looked down at the weapon, then up at the giant, skinless face of the beast, and then back down at the gun.
"What... what is happening right now?"
The dog sat. It kept its front paws neatly aligned, waiting for approval like a golden retriever at a dog show, though the obedient posture was heavily undermined by the fresh blood dripping from its fangs. Its heavy tail began to wag, sweeping dust and glittering glass shards across the concrete in a steady, rhythmic arc.
Rebecca’s fingers slowly closed around the grip of her Beretta, the familiar weight offering a tiny sliver of comfort. She raised the weapon, keeping the knife raised in her left hand.
"I-I don’t know what kind of training you have," she stammered, her chest heaving, "but if you... if you try to bite me, I will shoot. I swear to God, I’ll do it."
The dog’s tail wagged even faster.
Then, with an enthusiastic grunt, the massive biological weapon flopped directly onto its back.
Rebecca flinched, her shoulder bumping against the steel support beam as her gun tracked the movement.
The hound rolled fully over, legs splayed wide in the air, exposing its thick, patched belly in an obvious, desperate bid for rubs. Its chest rose and fell with a happy, raspy pant, and one of its hind legs gave an eager little kick against the air.
But as Rebecca’s eyes drifted down to assess the creature’s posture, her medical training forced her to identify an anatomical feature that made her entire brain stall out.
Hanging prominently between the creature’s hind legs was... well, there was no delicate way to put it. It was a dick.
But Rebecca had seen the reproductive organs of canines before—in anatomy textbooks, during field first-aid training, on her neighbor’s relentlessly horny golden retriever. They were thin, reddish, vaguely lipstick-shaped things.
This was not that.
This was a thick, purple-grey, heavily veined monstrosity that looked less like a biological feature and more like a spare part for some kind of organic jackhammer. Even in its semi-deflated state, the sheer, concrete-hard proportion of the organ was the size of her forearm.
"Is... is that s-supposed to be..." she whispered, her voice trailing off into a strangled squeak.
A furious, burning heat roared into her cheeks, turning her face a vivid, mortifying crimson. She wrenched her gaze upwards, staring intently at a water stain on the ceiling as if it held the secrets to the universe
Don’t look at that. Don’t think about that. You are a medical professional in a survival situation and you are not going to sit here cataloging the proportions of a mutant dog’s—
The dog let out a soft, whining yawn, its heavy tail thumping happily against the dusty floorboards.
[To be Continued]
Tomorrow is ranking updates, so hope you guys are ready. This week was top 20, lets aim to go top 10 next week. Think you guys can do it?
I will announce the milestones tomorrow as incentives :)
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